A man she loved heart and soul, a beautiful baby, several dear friends, a talent for doing work she loved-and the distinct possibility that someone would pay for that work in the near future.

And on top of all that, the sun was out, but then, this wasL.A., where the sun wasalways out.

She felt like singing, so she did, a few bars from a great old Otis Redding song, "I'veBeen Loving You Too Long."

She sounded awful. Like a cornered cat, Mira always said.

She laughed, tipping her head back, feeling the sun's benign kiss on her upturned face. "Never was much of a singer..."

Someone had left the street door to Barnaby's building open a crack. She shook her head at it. The neighborhood was a dangerous one. It wasn't wise to leave the doors unlatched for anyL.A.desperado to wander in. However, there was a bright side. It saved her the trouble of ringing the bell and waiting for Barnaby to buzz her up.

She pulled open the heavy door and stepped into the shadowy vestibule.

She never saw what hit her. One minute she was turning to make sure the door was firmly shut behind her-and the next the world went black.

Chapter 17.

At one-fifteen in the afternoon, Cathy the receptionist stuck her head into the examining room where Loganwas going over a medical history. "You've got a call," Cathy said. "Someone named AdeleLevenson on line three. She said it's about-" He didn't need to hear more. It had to be about Lacey or Rosie. "Thank you, Cathy. I'll be right there."

He spoke quite calmly. But his heart had gone into overdrive. It felt d.a.m.n neartachycardic , beating with a rhythm ragged and way too swift.

Slow down, he thought. It's probably nothing serious. Some minor problem. Nothing that bad... His patient smiled at him when he excused himself. He slipped out the door and went to his private office, where he dropped into his desk chair, grabbed the phone and punched the b.u.t.ton that blinked red.

"h.e.l.lo. This is Logan Severance."

A woman with a gentle voice spoke to him. She said things that couldn't possibly be true.

Lacey had been mugged. Some street punk had attacked her. Her friend Barnaby had found her and

called an ambulance.

He heard himself ask, "Head injury, you said?"

"Yes. She was. .h.i.t on the back of the head. From what I understand, someone knocked her out,

grabbed her purse and ran."

"Is she conscious now?"

"No-I don't know. I talked to Barnaby just before I called you. As of then, she hadn't come to."

His heart pounded. His mind swam. He thought, "My G.o.d. Rosie..." and realized he'd spoken aloud

when AdeleLevenson answered him.

"It's all right. Rosie's here with me. You don't have to worry about your little girl."

"What hospital? Where is my wife?"

Adele told him.

He grabbed a pen and wrote it down. "I have your phone number, but I don't know where you live."

She gave him the address.

He scribbled that down, too. "Will you be there, at this number?"

"For a while. I think that's best, with the baby. Lacey borrowed my car, anyway, so I'll have a little

trouble trying to go anywhere. But in a few hours, if there's no news, I might try to get a ride to the hospital."

"Do you have a cell phone?"

She said she did. They exchanged numbers. Then he said, "I'll book the earliest flight I can get. And I'll

call you back as soon as I know when I'm coming in." * * *

It took six hours, from the momentLoganhung up the phone until he was striding into ICU atTwinPalmsHospitalinLos Angeles. A neurologist spoke with him.Loganlistened, feeling d.a.m.n near disembodied, one part of his mind screaming,Thisis Lacey -Laceywe're talking about , as the information came at him. She was in a coma. Lacey. In acoma ... The word kept repeating itself in his head. Coma, coma, coma, until it sounded like nonsense syllables, nothing real, nothing that could happen to Lacey, with her bright, inquisitive mind and her naughty sense of humor. Not to Lace, with her musical laughter and her sweet wildness in bed.

"Signs are good, Dr. Severance," the neurologist said.

"Good?"Loganrepeated. It was another nonsense syllable.

Good, good, good, good...

"Yes. Very good. Your wife is breathingon her own . Weintubated and had her on a respirator for a few hours, then tested and found the respirator unnecessary. EEG and CT scans have revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Of course, we've set up arterial and CYP lines to measure blood pressure and oxygen levels.

"So far, we have minimal cerebral swelling, and we've seen no necessity for invasive procedures. We're going to be monitoring her closely for the slightest change. As I'm sure you're aware, she could wake any minute."

Loganknew the rest of it, the part they never said if they could help it. Yes, she could wake any minute. But she mightnever wake. With head injuries resulting in coma, you waited. "Can I see her?"

"Of course. Come this way."

* * * He did what the husbands of very ill wives do. He sat by her bed and he held her hand. He watched hungrily for each slightest movement-the twitching of an eyelid, the tiniest flutter of a muscle in her smooth, white neck.

He spoke with Barnaby Cole-and Adele, who had finally found a ride to the hospital and brought his daughter along. He held Rosie and he fed her milk pumped from the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of his unconscious wife. And he hated himself.

* * * At ten that night, Detective Carla Cruz from the LAPD called him out to the hall. She told him that they'd caught the man who'd attacked his wife. A junkie with a habit to feed. They'd also recovered Lacey's purse, which they were keeping, temporarily anyway, as evidence.

"Whatever cash she might have had is gone, along with any credit cards," Detective Cruz told him

regretfully. "But the wallet is still there, as well as her driver's license, some pictures and various store membership cards. And then there are lipsticks and a compact, a small address book-"

"Jenna,"Logansaid, the name popping into his head and coming right out his mouth.

"Excuse me?"

"I ... you said you found an address book in her purse. I was just thinking of someone I should call."

"I'm sorry. That book will be locked up in Evidence now. You can't get to it."

He thanked the detective. She advised him to call the credit card companies and cancel Lacey's cards.

And she also said she'd be back in the next twenty-four hours to check on the witness.

Loganunderstood. They'd want to interview Lacey, if and when she emerged from her unconscious

state.

Somehow, that thought soothed him. To imagine cool, efficient-looking Detective Cruz coming back, interviewing Lacey-who would be sitting up in bed by then, blue eyes alert, full lips softly smiling.

As soon as the detective left him, he pulled out his cell phone. He had Mrs. Hopper's number stored

there. He dialed theMeadowValleyarea code and then punched the proper autodial b.u.t.ton.

When the housekeeper answered, he told her what had happened and listened to her expressions of shock and concern. Then he asked her to go to the house and get Jenna's phone number from the kitchen drawer address book.

She called him back twenty minutes later.

He thanked her, disconnected the call, and punched up theKey Westnumber the housekeeper had given him.

Jenna and Mack and their ten-day-old baby, Ian, arrived atTwinPalmsHospitaleleven hours later. They'd chartered a jet. Money-and MackMcGarrity had plenty of it-had its uses. Jenna came into Lacey's room alone, leaving her husband and their baby in the lounge down the hall. Loganwas sitting with Lacey, holding her hand, talking to her softly,telling her that she was doing well, that she would get better, that her baby was fine...

He glanced up and Jenna was standing there, her straight blond hair smooth as always around her oval face and her eyes-blue, but a softer, less vivid blue than Lacey's-filled with tears. He feltrelief, that she had come. And affection-the kind of warm feeling one bears a sister. Or a dear friend.

As for the hurt, the bitterness of her leaving him-he could hardly remember it.

The bitterness had been gone for a long time now. Months, really.

Maybe since that September night when Lacey knocked on his door, chocolate cake in hand,

determined to console him-and ending up doing so much more.

Changing his life, opening his heart, turning his gray world to full color.

Jenna came to stand beside him. She looked down at her sister "Oh," she said. "Oh, Lace..."

Carefully, mindful of the lines taped to the back of it,Loganlet go of Lacey's hand. He laid it with infinite

gentleness on top of the blanket.

He stood.

Jenna turned to him. She held out her arms.

He went into them, seeking solace, seeking rea.s.surance-desperately needing the touch of someone

who could understand.

Something inside of him broke wide open. He felt terror and relief, combined.

He couldn't hold back. In a ragged whisper, he breathed his confession against Jenna's shining hair.